Christy Barritt - Squeaky Clean 07 - Mucky Streak by Christy Barritt Page A

investigation.”
    Tension pulled at my muscles. I finished paying, excused myself, and stepped onto the sidewalk, wanting both privacy and a chance to see what was going on around me. “Why would I do that?”
    “Some things are best left buried.”
    My eyes scanned my surroundings. Old buildings with graffiti and chipped bricks and sprinkles of litter surrounded me. Storefronts, many abandoned based on the outdated, crooked signs, were on the lower level of the three or four story buildings. Apartments were over many of them, several with AC units in the windows and sheets covering the glass.
    Nothing stood out to me, though. No one , I should say.
    “I think justice is always best when it’s alive and well,” I ventured.
    “Some skeletons weren’t meant to come out of the closet.”
    A shiver crawled up my spine. “Who is this? The same person who slashed my tires?”
    “Most people call me the Watcher.”
    My throat tightened at the ominous name. “Who assigned you as guardian over this case?”
    “That’s not important.”
    “I’d say it is.”
    “Stop looking for me. You won’t find me.”
    The air froze in my lungs. Despite that, I continued to scan the buildings around me, looking for a sign of someone. But everyone seemed engaged, moving. Not watching, waiting.
    “Maybe we could meet sometime and talk about this.” Riley would have told me that was the dumbest idea ever. Sadness pressed down on my heart at the thought. The emotion quickly dispersed though as my adrenaline took over all of my senses.
    “That won’t be necessary. But consider this a warning.”
    I didn’t like the sound of that. “And if I keep investigating?”
    “You don’t want to find out. That is all.” The line went dead.
    My gaze swept the area one more time. Still not hing. I hurried toward the corner.
    A movement in the rundown apartments there caught my eye. I moved closer, the third story window of a grungy yellow building never leaving my sight. Had the curtain moved? I couldn’t be sure.
    I stepped nearer.
    A car horn blared. I nearly jumped out of my skin. My gaze skittered to a black sedan. The woman behind the wheel had her hands raised in the air, as if asking me what I was doing.
    If only she knew.
    I waved an apology and started back toward the restaurant. It looked like things were getting interesting. Very interesting.
     
    ***
     
    I stepped back into the chili joint, convinced that if I died in the near future, it would be death by a car. I’d had two too many close calls lately.
    Holly stuck a chocolate mint in her mouth and waved me over. “Everything okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”
    “Somethin g like that.” I grabbed my coat and told her about the call as we walked out to the car.
    She gasped. “That’s terrible. And strange. I mean, who would do that?”
    “Someone involved in the crime, I suppose. But what I can’t come to terms with is how they know I’m investigating. It’s not like I’m closing in on someone. Whoever made that phone call has no reason to scare me. Yet he’s trying to.”
    “I suppose the question is ‘why’ then? They must see you as a risk somehow.”
    I shook my head. “I guess.”
    She pulled her cute little purse up higher on her shoulder. “Listen, I’m free for the afternoon. Anywhere you want to go? I know the area pretty well. I’d be happy to take you.”
    “I would actually love that. Norfolk is tiny compared to this place.” I looked down at my paper. “I need to go to 123 Birmingham St. Know where that is?”
    “I can find out fast.” She tapped something into her phone , studied the screen for a moment, and then nodded. “I know exactly how to get there. Want to go now?”
    “Why not?” I might as well jump in.
    A moment later, we were in Holly’s baby blue, vintage Mustang. In my rush this morning, I hadn’t really taken it in. I’d been too preoccupied with my slashed tires and trying to formulate what I was going to ask the